"The term Foetus-in-fetu (FIF) was coined by Meckel[1] in the 18th century and is defined as a parasitic twin found within the abdomen of its sibling. In 1809, Young reported the first case of foetus in fetu. Since then sporadic cases have been reported. Foetus in Fetu is discovered most commonly in infancy as a retroperitoneal mass.[2] They may be totally asymptomatic.[3] Symptoms, if present, are related to mass effect and include abdominal distension, feeding difficulties, emesis, jaundice and dyspnoea.[3] In most cases FIF is present intra-abdominally in the upper part of the retroperitoneal space.[4] Rare locations like cranial cavity, pelvis, scrotal sac, sacro-coccygeal region, mesentery and right iliac fossa are also reported.[5] Usually they are one in number, but some cases of more than one have been reported.[5]"Nagar A, Raut AA, Narlawar RS. Foetus in fetu. J Postgrad Med [serial online] 2002 [cited 2004 Oct 11 ];48:133-4. Available from: Journal of Postgraduate Medicine

Now, here's why I've decided to share that slightly disgusting bit of info with you. I've been fascinated with the idea of fetus in fetu for a couple of weeks now, ever since I watched a show about it on Discovery Health Channel. While it's a physical malady, I think it could actually be used to describe a social or psychological problem.There's a line of thought I've had that lends the idea that human beings tend to be slightly partitioned psychologically. It's the same concept as "phone voice"--meaning that I can tell who my mother is on the phone with by the sound of her voice. Her mother gets one tone, my brother another, the pharmacist something totally different. We all do it.Now, the parts of my psyche that are well-developed (my emotional side but not necessarily my ability to emote) are two separate pieces of me (a la Ashlee Simpson). My work sense and the person I am at home are two distinct, complete, well-defined/formed individuals residing inside of me.But then there's people like my most recent ex-boyfriend, T. Socially, he's well-developed. Casually he's well-developed. His sense of work ethic, while it needs a great deal of remodeling, is developed. He's emotions are stunted. His emotional self is like a foetus in fetu. He actually appears to treat emotions as a parasite. Granted, he was raised by a mother who didn't show a lot of affection or emotion--not that she didn't have those at all, she just didn't show them much. He never learned how to show emotion when someone isn't standing in front of him. Frankly, I think the reason he was able to end things so suddenly and brusquely was because I wasn't with him for 2 weeks while he was at his mother's. The fact that he chose to do it via e-mail was because he knew that if he had to look at me and do it, he wouldn't have been able to do it, because he would've felt something. His "parasitic" feelings for me weren't feeding on him 6 states away.I challenge you:Find the something in you that is your foetus in fetu. I'll tell you mine. My inability to more often than not emote appropriately is a parasite in me. Hell, you may not have one at all and bravo for you for being a completely well-developed person. In my opinion, the minute I stop having one at all is when I want to have a chat with St. Peter.

I spent all day Sunday watching "From the Earth to the Moon." It's that movie tracing the race to the Moon that Tom Hanks produced. It wasn't just a good show, all 12+ hours of it, it also made me think. Occasionally, I like a movie that does that.

The people directly involved in the space program seem to have a specific quality. One that almost seems to be a prerequisite. It's not a quality that other jobs require, though it's sure to help a person succeed in those jobs. It's also guaranteed to earn a person a few wary-eyed looks from colleagues. What is this quality? Passion.

Those who sought the Moon were incredibly passionate. I don't believe the quality was overplayed for the sake of the movie. Great things can be (and have been) done by ordinary men with extraordinary imaginations, but not one of those men lacked passion.

You look back at those involved in the race to the Moon and you learn of their passion. Those men, those people, loved their jobs and performed them with pride and a drive that made it inevitable that they would reach their goal. And no one who ever felt the same passion could have ever questioned the outcome.

I'm one of those people who attaches meaning to damn near everything. I'm also emotionally driven. As I watched the various parts of "From the Earth to the Moon," I was hit with the idea that there was more than just a history lesson at stake in it. There's a life lesson.

We should all live our lives as passionately as those people who got Americans to the Moon. We should all do things with such pride--not to the point of being egomaniacal, but to the point of impressing upon others that we are proud of the things we do. (Now, I know there's things we do that we are not at all proud of, but maybe we should take pride in what we've learned from those things.)

We should love with such passion as those men, and expect absolutely no less from our lovers.